


A Long Aquaintance

by DollhouseQueen



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 5+1 Things, Blink-and you'll-miss it crossover with The King's Speech, Gen, History everywhere, Nations, Nations everywhere, New Zealand is a BAMF, lots of nations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 11:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollhouseQueen/pseuds/DollhouseQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prussia has known New Zealand for almost a century. In that time, he's seen her punch other nations for insulting her, fighting her, trying to subdue her, and occasionally, trying to beat her at Rugby.</p><p>It's surprisingly amusing, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Long Aquaintance

**4th Nov. 1881; noon.  
A random corridor in the West wing (maybe), The Kirkland Estate; Kent; England.**

Prussia scowled and swept down yet another corridor in search of Germany. His younger brother had wanted to come to the World Conference (seeing he was Germany now) and against Prussia's awesome wishes, he'd allowed the younger nation to tag along. He hadn't planned on any problems, but of course, he'd failed to consider who the host was. England (bastard that he was) had held the Conference at his sprawling mansion, and apparently found it amusing to make life difficult for his guests by placing the guest rooms at the other end of the mansion from the meeting room.

It seemed that navigating the manor was next to impossible.

Prussia was certain the Island nation was showing off, because the place was huge, filled to the brim with countless exotic and/or expensive items gathered from every corner of the British Empire, and apparently housed all of England's colonies. Prussia had yet to see any, but he had heard giggling and the sound of children's footsteps more than once as he wandered through the corridors. He suspected that they had been instructed not to be seen by the guests (something he'd never had to do to Germany, ha!), or else they had all inherited England's unawesome need to be mysterious and creepy.

Still, he'd thought his less awesome brother would be more safety conscious in this situation, but no. Germany had gotten himself lost, and in a mansion filled with possibly hostile empires, nations, and invisible colonies of British descent no less.

Now Prussia had to find his kid brother before someone else did. He didn't want Austria or France ruining everything he'd done for the kid because they were jealous of how fucking awesome Prussia was. But he'd been searching this unawesome manor for nearly an hour, and while he'd found a library, the Italian brothers (he'd have to tell Spain about that later, if he ever found him), and a rather disturbing room with a huge globe marked with lots of little red darts, he'd yet to see any hide or hair of Germany.

It was fucking pissing him off.

This corridor was a dead end. A large window was set into the end wall, next to a plain, unassuming door. He glanced out of the window - the grounds of England's mansion looked even more unnavigable then the house itself. There was even a maze, of all things. He scoffed and turned to leave. Maybe Germany had shown more brains then he actually had and gone back to their shared guest-room.

"Don't!"

He stopped. That was a girl's voice, a little girl's. One of England's colonies? Curiosity getting the better of him (after all, England's empire was huge ( _and he was not god-damned jealous, as the British nation always seemed to be implying!_ ), he should had at least seen one of the brats by now), he pushed open the door to see a narrow wooden staircase leading up to the next floor. The staircase was lacking in any furnishings, the walls were completely bare of paint or decoration, and the only light was from the frosted glass window set in the wall opposite the door It was quite obviously the servants staircase, although the trio already there were not servants.  
Three children stood on a small landing just about ten steps up, two boys and a girl, silhouetted in front of the window. The boys, both appearing to be about thirteen or fourteen (by human standards, anyway), were dressed in mussed-up shirts and shorts, their knee-high socks bunched up around their ankles. They'd obviously been stuffed into their Sunday best, before being allowed to run amok. One had sandy brown hair, with two odd cowlicks waving proudly from atop his head. The other boy was tanned and grinning, taller and lankier then his companion. Prussia couldn't see the girl's face as she was facing away from him, but she had long dark hair and was dressed in a simple white dress with a green sash. She was also wearing some sort of feathered cloak over her English garments and had three large black feathers with white tips pinned in her hair, standing stiffly above her head, like a crown. She was smaller than the boys. Prussia placed her to be around ten or eleven in appearance - though he wasn't sure. He had a brother, not a sister.

They were definitely England's colonies though. He could see the eyebrows on the brunet boy from a good five metres away.

"Give it back!"

The brunet was holding up what appeared to be a large pendant carved from a glossy green stone attached to a twine cord, and both he and the other boy were laughing as the girl tried to reach for it.

"Say please!"

The dark-skinned boy said as the brunet pulled the pendant out of the girl's reach again. They both laughed as she stumbled in her effort to grab back her pendant. Prussia watched, unnoticed, from the door on the landing below. He wasn't going to interfere - they weren't his colonies. Besides, he wanted to see what the girl would do, unawesome weakling that she was.

"Please give it back!"

"No!"

"Please!"

"Why should I?" The brunet smirked, and stepped closer to the girl. The girl made another futile attempt at grabbing the pendant, but he pushed her, her shoulder jerking back as his palm collided with it. "Why should I, brat? Think you can order me 'round, just 'cause you're England's favourite?"

"Australia..." The other boy warned. The brunet ignored him.

"I ain't gonna cut you any slack, girl. You want this piece of trash? Come and get it." He seemed to think he was smart, threatening a girl. Prussia frowned, but the girl didn't reply. Prussia only got a chance to notice the slightly shift in the position of her feet before she twisted and swung her right fist into the brunet's - Australia's - nose.

Prussia raised an eyebrow as the boy stumbled back, a hand jumping to his injury. He didn't have time to retaliate, the girl had drawn what appeared to be a flat, curved-edged club from the sash around her waist (it had been previously hidden by her feathered cloak) and attacked. Prussia could see the difference immediately - the boy didn't know how to fight, not really, but the girl definitely did, even if it was in a rather savage manner. In a matter of moments, she had Australia pinned to the wall, the edge of her club at his throat.

"You should be glad," She said softly, unaware of her audience. "that England told me not to fight other colonies. I'll have that back, please."

She slipped the pendant from the boy's grasp, and stepped back, lowering her weapon. Australia slipped down the wall, staring at her wide-eyed as a thin trickle of blood flowed from his nose and over his lip, his limbs already starting to bruise where she'd hit them with the flat side of her club. The other boy shifted, and she spun in an automatic reaction, lifting the club up into a block as she did so. She seemed almost confused when the boy did not attack.

Prussia clapped once, then twice, slowly applauding this little colony. She wasn't awesome, not like him, but she could fight well and she was kind of cute in her mixed outfit of savagery and English prissiness. She even had cute little curls on either side of her head, like tiny sheep horns.

Prussia had always had a weakness for cute things - Gilbird and Germany were proof of that.

The children had frozen, eyes wide. He smirked; apparently they expected him to tell them off or something. The little girl went "oh!" and tried to hide her weapon behind her back. Both boys gulped, not taking their eyes of the unexpected adult presence in their midst.

"Tch. Impressive, kinder. What's your name?"

She blinked, looking around as if wondering who else he could be talking to. Neither boy were volunteering their names, so she turned back to Prussia with a gulp. Her eyes were the same shade of green as England's (She'd also inherited his eyebrows, poor thing), and were conveying her nervousness easily to Prussia. Her voice, however, didn't waver or shake when she replied.

"New Zealand, e pa."

He grinned. So this was the newest colony that had effectively ended England's great exploration age. He'd heard about her (mostly when England was drunk) - causing battles left and right, becoming a colony through a treaty, through her own freewill (something England seemed sore about - apparently colonies were harder to control when they weren't scared of you), starting a war with the Empire over her own territory...she had quite the record for someone so small.

"Well then, New Zealand," He said cheerfully, guiding her away from the boys. "I'm the awesome Prussia, the strongest nation in the world! Don't forget it. You're going to help me find my brother; I seem to have misplaced him..."  
 **24th May, 1915; around 8:00am.  
A really smelly trench, somewhere north of Gaba Tepe, Gallipoli peninsular, Turkey. **

"There's no need for ya to be 'ere, yanno." Turkey commented, picking his way through the crowded trench. Prussia followed behind him, looking out of place in his German uniform. The Turkish soldiers sent him a few curious glances, before returning to their posts. Turkey himself turned back to look at him (or at least, that's what Prussia thought he was doing. That damned mask covered his eyes.) "I'm sure that Austrian bastard wouldn't mind yer help these days."

Prussia snorted and stepped around a corpse lying in the bottom of the trench, wincing slightly at the buzz of the flies festering in the rotting flesh. None of the soldiers around the two nations seemed to mind - they'd certainly made no attempt to bury the man. More corpses lay close by in No-man's land, the rot filling the air with a putrid smell.

"All the more reason for me to be here instead of at the Western Front." He replied disdainfully. "If Germany sees the need to keep our promises, then I'm sure he'll take responsibility for this unawesome shit Austria's started and fight the Allies himself. Besides, this seemed more interesting than watching Russia make a fool of himself up north. Seems like I was wrong in that regard."

Turkey chuckled grimly and paused, pressing up against the wall of the trench in order to let a series of men bearing a stretcher rush past. Prussia copied him, watching as the man was carried past. A bullet to the shoulder - an enemy sniper's work, most likely. Turkey sighed and readjusted his grip on his rifle, continuing onwards and finally foregoing the conversation. They did not get much further - an officer came running up to Turkey, saluted quickly, before beginning to speak rapidly in Turkish. Prussia stood by as Turkey questioned the man, before letting the officer go on his way.

"What was that about?" Prussia asked, turning back to watch the man hurried along the trench behind them, stopping every so often to bark at officers. Prussia didn't speak Turkish, so he had no clue about what was going on. It was then that he noticed a change in the stalemate - the constant machine-gun fire and shelling were slowly thinning out. Soldiers all around him were muttering feverishly as they heard their orders, some already moving away down tunnels or out into connecting trenches.

"They've organised a cease-fire with that lot. Nine hours, staring on the half-hour." Turkey replied, grinning. "'bout time, too. It'll give us a chance to bury the bodies."

…...

Prussia was once again following Turkey across the battlefield, stepping over corpses in various stages of decomposition. No-man's land was a strip of unconquered land between to the two sets of trenches, but as Prussia was finding out, it was not a straight line in any sense. In some places, the Turkish trenches met up with the enemies, and according to Turkey, tunnels ran beneath the surface along the Front. There had even been cases of fighting breaking out underground. The terrain was brutal, cliffs and dusty slopes providing no shelter from the sun or bullets, flies everywhere and a sickening stench wafting over everything. Prussia couldn't see why England had let the allied troops keep fighting here - everything seemed against them.

Unless of course, the bastard himself was fighting here. Then they'd never give up their hopeless battle.

"Who are you fighting here?" Prussia asked as Turkey rolled over a corpse with his shovel, trying to see whether the man was Turkish or Allied. "England?"

Turkey shook his head, and waved over a couple of his troops to bury the dead Turkish soldier.

"Nah," He said to Prussia as they continued to pick their way through the corpses. "England's lot are further down the coast, not that they're having any better luck down there. Nah, this lot's from his colonies in the Pacific...Australia and New Zealand, I think."

"They fight well?"

"Oh yeah, we've had no luck at driving them back...those boys are real good at stealth, it seems. They don't seem to be very well equipped though. They've got grenades made outta jam jars and no machine guns to speak of."  
Prussia looked out over the field. The enemy troops were emerging from their trenches to help bury the dead, their uniforms altered to suit the weather. Prussia bet England would have a fit if he saw soldiers of his empire fighting without proper uniform. They seemed relatively cheerful for soldiers who'd been under constant fire in unfavourable conditions for a month.

Trench warfare was unawesome. Prussia preferred the old wars, with swords and horses and muskets. That thought alone made him scowl. He didn't like it when his age caught up with him.

"Are there any other Nations fighting here?" He asked quietly, conscious - for once - of the humans nearby. Turkey nodded.

"Yup. England's colonies fight with their troops. Hang on..." Turkey scanned No-man's land, before pointing out a soldier with sandy brown hair a little way away, caked in dirt and talking to one of the human soldiers. "That's Australia. I haven't met him face to face yet, but his troops fight dirty...I can't see New Zealand. "

"Look behind you." A hoarse voice growled out, followed by the thump of a shovel hitting the ground.

Both Prussia and Turkey spun round to face the other nation, just in time for Prussia to see the fist sailing towards Turkey's nose. The Turk didn't have time to dodge, and the fist connected with his face soon after.

"Bastard." New Zealand spat. Prussia smirked as Turkey straightened his mask, mouth tilted down in a frown.

"You're the one invading," He said slowly. "I should be the one hitting you."

New Zealand bristled. Prussia looked at her...or was it him? The New Zealand he remembered from England's many colonies had definitely been a young girl, with long wavy hair and a perchance for weird jewellery and dresses. This soldier in front of him had the same dark hair and coffee-colored skin as the girl he remembered, but instead had short hair cropped just beneath the earlobes and was dressed in the same tan uniform as the allied soldiers. It was baggy, however, and could probably hide any tell-tale signs of her gender...

She still had the wide green eyes and sheep-horn curls he'd thought were cute in 1881.

And England's eyebrows, unfortunately.

He completely missed the short conversation between Turkey and New Zealand, but certainly didn't miss seeing New Zealand land another punch on Turkey's face.

"Ksesesese..." He laughed softly, looking between New Zealand's angry expression and Turkey's stunned one. She'd knocked his mask clean off with the second punch. Prussia didn't try to stop her; he was just inspecting this front, not fighting himself.

Besides, it was much more amusing to watch her beat up Turkey during a supposed cease-fire.

"Wanker. Gimme a cigarette, will you?" She said again, bending to pick up her discarded shovel. She accepted the offered cigarette from Turkey with a nod and a scowl, before briefly grinning at Prussia. "See you 'round, Prussia."  
And with that, she walked off. Prussia smirked, realising that she had remembered him. They'd only ever met once before, and she'd remembered!

Even England's colonies acknowledged his awesomeness!

"Weird boy, that one." Turkey grumbled, rubbing his nose. "Fights nasty."

Prussia just laughed.  


**12th May, 1937: Late afternoon. An overly crowded reception room, Buckingham Palace, London, England.**

Prussia leaned back against the gilded wall, sighing as he watched the other nations mingle and indulge in idle chatter. As per tradition, the nations of Europe had been invited to the coronation of England's newest monarch. At least this one seemed like a decent leader, if you ignored his infernal stutter (which, actually, hadn't been that bad during the coronation. Prussia had memories of the British royal that said otherwise) and shitty self-confidence. England's last king hadn't lasted the year, and from what Prussia had heard, had nearly been murdered by his nation over the issue of his erratic and weak behaviour, not to mention the affair and obsession with that American commoner.

Austria had been certain England would have enough self-control not to try to kill a monarch.

Prussia had known otherwise, and now had more cash in his beer-fund as a result.

The coronation itself had been fun (it reminded Prussia why he preferred to be a militaristic nation instead of an autocratic one - the pomp and ceremony of England's monarchs was hilarious), but now all the human guests were attending some sort of reception, while the nations met in a separate hall in order to fling barrages of thinly veiled insults at each other, under the guise of a reception of their own, as per tradition.

He'd meant to stay away - England still wasn't best pleased that his royal family had German blood, and had gotten rather violent last time it had been brought up - but Germany had ordered him to honour the invite and go.  
Normally, Prussia wouldn't have let his baby brother order him around, but he didn't like their boss at all, and was wary about what the human wanted with him. He wanted to get away from the leers and ominous glances the man kept sending him. He'd seen Spain recently, and had found himself –him, Prussia! – feeling guilty for his old friend’s injuries. Prussia wasn't pleased that they were interfering with the Mediterranean nation's civil war. Sending the Luftwaffe into someone else's war was going to get them in trouble, and Prussia wasn't certain he could handle another war like the Great War, not when he was sharing his territory with Germany and his capital, his Berlin, his heart, no longer belonged to him.

At this rate, it didn't look like he was going to have much choice.

"What are you thinking 'bout?" A soft voice asked, coming from somewhere beside him. He blinked and turned his crimson gaze on the nation who'd approached him. Green eyes stared back, unfazed by the dark glares she was receiving for approaching that "blood-thirsty, war-mongering, nasty excuse of a nation". Prussia knew what the rest of Europe thought of Germany and him, he wasn't deaf.

"New Zealand." He stated, nodding at the younger nation. She nodded back, her lips curling in a slight, close-lipped smile. She was wearing a blue dress of a rather simple design. Prussia wasn't sure why this surprised him. Maybe it was the fact that the last time he'd seen her had been at Versailles, and before that, in the trenches of the Western Front and Gallipoli. Both times she'd been dressed in military uniform and acted accordingly. It seemed slightly...odd, seeing her in a skirt. He hadn't exactly been sure of her gender the last time they'd met.

...Why did he keep meeting women who had major cases of gender confusion? First Hungary, now New Zealand. It was like he was cursed or something.

"Tēnā koe, Prussia." She replied evenly. "You didn't answer my question."

He waved a hand dismissively. "It's nothing, just the shit my boss is putting Germany and me through at the moment, where this is all going, you know? Why are you here anyway? I thought it was only Europe that got dragged to these things these days."

She laughed softly, covering her mouth with her hand when he glanced at her.

"George is my king too, y'know. England asked all of the Dominions to come, but I got bored of listening to Canada and Australia argue so I wandered off." Her smirk grew larger as she glanced sidelong at him, her eyes bright in the dimly lit hall. "You don't seem to be frothing at the bit for the coming war."

Her statement caught him off guard; everyone seemed to think that they'd fought the War to end all Wars already. His eyes widened when he realised what she was implying and he stiffened, wary already of the nation’s surrounding them. If they knew the Great Prussia didn't want another World War...

"I was under the impression that England and France were trying to put off another war." He said, staring out into the crowded hall. She shifted slightly beside him and lowered her voice. Obviously she was aware that their current topic of conversation would not be approved of by many of the nations around them. Her glance toward England made him wonder if they had argued over this very subject.

"They are, but I don't believe that appeasement will do anything other than delay the inevitable. England is being brilliantly blind to common sense at the moment." He could feel her sharp gaze on his face, but kept his eyes averted. Her statement confirmed what he'd thought. Arguing with the empire, who'd have thought?

Well, him, obviously, but he was just that awesome.

"Fascism doesn't suit you, does it?"

He paused, just moments before a brash remark about England's lack of sight could leave his lips. She'd guided the conversation right into his current pet peeve. This small, insignificant nation from the bottom of the world was much more perceptive than he would have ever guessed. He couldn't brag or divert her questions with boasts of his awesomeness – and even though he was awesome, he just needed to remind everyone every so often, in case they forgot - she'd see through it. Inwardly, he cursed England for raising his colonies so well. None of Spain or France's rabble had ever been this annoying.

"At least it's not as bad as Communism." He murmured. She snorted inelegantly, and covered her mouth in an attempt to stop her laughter.

"Some would say otherwise." She murmured back, her gaze flicking quickly to where Russia - no, it was the USSR now - stood across the hall. He followed her gaze, and frowned when he saw France approaching them. His companion's long-suffering sigh told him she'd seen the Frenchman too. They stopped speaking to greet of the flamboyant nation.

"New Zealand, my dear. Prussia." France said. It was almost amusing at how his voice went from flirtatious (to New Zealand) to dismissing (to Prussia). France sure knew how to hold a grudge...Prussia still hadn't worked out if the French nation was so intent on hating him because of Prussia's annexation of French territory in 1871, or because of the damage done to the blond nation's land during the Great War.

Thinking about it, it was probably both.

Prussia tuned out as France attempted to guide New Zealand away from him. The girl seemed to have inherited England's abhorrence of France and was refusing to go anywhere with the elder nation. She'd kept her hair short since the war, Prussia noticed. It made the little curls - so much like sheep-horns - stand out all the more.

Too cute. Her hair was too damn cute.

Dammit, he was getting distracted again. Where was Gilbird when he needed him?

"-was just talking to Prussia, France." New Zealand's voice cut through his musings. She looked disgusted by France's mere presence, a look frightfully similar to the one England showed the French nation all the time.

"Oh?" France said, looking politely interested as his hand drifted close to New Zealand's waist. Prussia didn't try to stop him - if the girl didn't want it, she'd do something about it. He made an affirmative noise in response to France's question as New Zealand side-stepped the other male nation's wandering hands. He smirked when France returned his glare, and sniggered when New Zealand slapped France's hand away.

"We were discussing your pathetic attempts at appeasing Germany's need for land. There are going to be consequences for your ignorance, y’know." New Zealand sniffed angrily, and Prussia's smirk grew when she referred to his crazy boss's wishes as Germany's problem, not his.

Probably not the nicest thing he could think about his brother, but right now he didn't really care.

The crazy boss wasn't going to be good for him, he could tell.

France just scowled.

"You should be more respectful to your elders, petit." The blond nation snapped, his flirtatious glances and touches replaced with an air of superiority - one that obviously annoyed New Zealand. She scowled back, eyes lit up with righteous anger and Prussia remembered that she wasn't independent yet, not completely. Being treated like a child - like a colony - was probably a sore point. Prussia looked between the two - he'd seen New Zealand punch nations stronger than her before, but would she dare to do so in the middle of a reception celebrating the coronation for her new king?

It seemed that, yes, she would.

France was standing with his back to the room, crowding the southern island nation against the wall. It would be intimidating, if Prussia didn't know France and didn't know what New Zealand did when she got angry or annoyed. He didn't interfere, settling for glancing between the two from his place off to the side and grinning like a maniac.

It wasn't bad to find New Zealand's anger amusing, was it?

New Zealand's face contorted into a savage snarl and she balled her fist just before France received a reminder that for all her polite speech and culture, New Zealand had only been civilised for under a century. He doubled over as she buried her fist in his stomach, one hand grasping his shoulder in order to keep him from falling on her. She pushed him away and irritably swept her fringe from her eyes, mimicking England's imperious glare with god-awful precision.

"Let's go Prussia." She said, "I want to introduce you to Canada - properly, this time - now that he doesn't shoot at you on sight anymore."

France glared up at him, and looked like he wanted to say something, probably rude. Prussia just gave him a lazy salute and let himself be dragged away into the masses of whispering, judging nations. France wasn't the only one holding grudges, but right now Prussia didn't feel like gaining the upper hand.

Punching France in front of all of Europe had to be the most awesome thing New Zealand had done.

Prussia was going to use this moment as blackmail for centuries.  


**29th August, 1981; Sometime after midday.  
A rather dirty pub near the waterfront, Central City, Wellington, New Zealand.**

"The hell are you doing here?"

New Zealand was glaring at him, her fringe falling over one eye as she leaned forward. He pulled the bottle of unawesome beer out of her reach and grinned. He'd been searching her capital for hours, hoping that she was one of those nations that hung around their Parliament. He didn't feel like combing her entire territory for her, some of the mountains he'd seen on the plane-ride over looked ominous. Luckily, he'd finally found her in a dingy pub near the city centre. She seemed to be in a pretty bad mood, her cheeks flushed with anger and alcohol, but seeing this was his first time in a western city since before the Wall went up, he didn't really care what the girl thought.

He just wanted a drink and some company that wasn’t someone in the Soviet Union.

Freedom of speech and all that shit.

"Just visiting." He said, taking a sip of the alcohol. It wasn't that shit England drunk...in fact, it almost tasted German. He raised a pale eyebrow and smirked. She glared, and snatched it back.

"Well, go 'way. How'd you even escape Russia?" She said, before she sculled the rest of the beer and slipped off the bar stool. "I don't wanna get in trouble for whatever it is you've done." She finished, pointing at him. He smirked at her and she scowled, before slapping a couple of banknotes on the bar and turning away.

"C'mon, let's get out of here."

"You won't," He assured her, following her out of the pub. "Get in trouble, that is."

The beer was alright, but the rest was unawesome and it was no fun getting drunk alone. If he’d only wanted beer, he would’ve just stayed in East Berlin. He wanted company, and New Zealand was amusing.

"Russia just said I wasn't allowed to go west. He didn't say shit about skipping the Union's borders and going through China and Vietnam." He explained as they dodged some of the people lingering outside the pub’s doors.  
That got him an incredulous snort. She ushered him over to a beaten-up jeep, still scowling like someone had annexed her favourite territory. Vaguely, he wondered what had got her panties is such a twist. She didn't used to be this angry.

"I won't even ask how you did that, or how you ended up here of all places. " She stated, backing out of the pub's car park. "I'm not sure I wanna know. Just make sure Vietnam doesn't realise you passed through her borders and then came here, or she'll find another bloody war charge to throw at me, and I don't need any more of that. Got enough fucking protests of my own to deal with."

"About the Cold war?"

"Nah," She turned briefly, to smirk at him. "That's a completely different kettle of fish. I can't be buggered dealing with America's stuff-ups right now. I'm more interested in breaking South Africa's nose."

"I'll watch." Prussia said absently as they drove down some building lined road. It was... interesting, watching these people go on with their lives in a way his own citizens weren't allowed. He missed it, but socialism was almost normal now, decades on. They were moving out of the city area, up a hill and into the suburbs. Everything seemed to be built of wood out here, away from the concrete buildings and construction sites in the city. The entire city, suburbs and all, seemed to be perched on the hillsides.

There were also an awful lot of people who seemed to be protesting something. New Zealand had to back up and change route a couple of times because of a blockade on the road ahead.

"It's not going to last, y'know." New Zealand said suddenly. He turned back to her. "This Cold War. The world is changing. Russia's starting to lose control. I'll bet he has a decade left, maybe two. America's starting to get tired too, despite his current drive to turn out fucking nukes like it's going outta fashion. After Vietnam..." She trailed off, looking distinctly troubled.

"You fought?"

"Mm." Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. "I tried to stay out of it, but America wore me down." She sighed, heavily. "I'm not proud of what I did, but it's in the past now. I can't change my mistakes, and unfortunately, I need America and the ANZUS alliance. England's too far away and I'm not a colony any more. I may not be the most influential western power, but I am one none the less."

"At least you're that." Prussia said softly, leaning back against the headrest. There was an empty beer bottle rolling around near his left foot. How much did New Zealand drink?

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean -" She started, apologetically. He waved his hand, dismissing the apology before it was finished. He didn't want apologies for the East and what it had done to him.

"It's fine - I've learnt to deal with what I got. Hungary's going to get mad soon though, if they don't let her see that bastard Austria. I haven't decided whether I want to be around for that yet. On one side, seeing Russia get hit by a frying pan could be fucking awesome, but on the other..." He shuddered. "I used to be her favourite target for said frying pan. I'm not sure being in the East has changed that."

That startled a laugh out of New Zealand, but her frown returned just as quickly.

"You're being unawesome." Prussia stated bluntly. She glanced at him, confused, but he just kept staring ahead at the steep, twisting road. "What's wrong?"

"Wrong?" She asked, "There's nothing - that bloody bastard."

He blinked, but she didn't continue. Instead, she slammed on the brakes and pulled her jeep to a stop outside a white colonial-style house (although, it was a bit bigger than the average colonial hut he'd seen the century before). A tanned teenager with the typical British eyebrows was standing by the gate. He looked just a little older then New Zealand, and Prussia could feel the pull that meant there was another nation nearby. But before Prussia could ask New Zealand who the boy was, she'd slammed the car door and was storming her way up the footpath towards him.

And then she punched him.

Prussia blinked and got out of the car, opening the door just in time to hear New Zealand hurling insults at the other nation. He was looking annoyed, which Prussia didn't understand. He scowled, the Iron Curtain meant he really was out of touch with the rest of the world.

"-You mother-fucking racist! Don't think I didn't bloody well hear ya this morning!" New Zealand shouted, grabbing the boy's collar and swinging her fist back to deliver another punch to his face. This time, he saw it coming and grabbed her wrist. She struggled, still trying to land the hit.

"You're drunk, Zea. Are you sure you should be driving?" He asked pleasantly, an irritated undertone colouring his broad accent. Prussia wondered if this was a common occurrence between them, as the boy hadn't seemed all that fazed that New Zealand was screaming insults at him after that first initial reaction to her punching him.

"This is my house." She hissed, glaring at him. "My house, my rules. You're here to play rugby, so do so, but keep your fucking racist thoughts to yourself. I don't support your bloody apartheid! And I'm not bloody pissed, bastard!"

The boy ignored her, his eyes trailing over to Prussia instead. Prussia raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, you have a guest. How sweet." He drawled with an obvious sarcastic overtone. That time New Zealand didn't bother trying to punch the boy. Her leg swung back and she kicked him in the shins. He let go of her wrist, swearing, and she glared at him and crossed her arms until he took a couple of steps backward, blood dripping slowly from his left nostril.

"Ah, I can see you're busy, Zea." He said, meeting and returning the island nation's glare. "I'll see you later. You are coming to the game, right?"

"I've half a mind not to!" She retorted. "Now bloody go away, will ya? And stop waiting outside my house! I don't fucking want to talk to ya!"

He simply waved and with a nod to Prussia, walked off down the footpath. New Zealand made a rude gesture at his back.

"Bastard." New Zealand said again. "That was South Africa, by the way."

"Don't you want him here?" Prussia asked. "Didn't I hear something about Rugby?"

"That's the problem!" She hissed, walking up the path to unlock the door. "I can't decide whether I want to play against him, despite the fact that he's a racist bastard and most of my boys in the team have brown skin, or if I want to cancel the tour until he can get his act together. I don't support his bloody apartheid, but letting his all-white team play here bloody well looks like it!"

She pushed open the door. Prussia just decided that rugby-fanatic nations were even worse then the football-fanatics in Europe. Getting politics involved in a sports game? Honestly.

"C'mon in, we might as well have a drink before it all goes to hell in a hand-basket. Or Russia turns up." New Zealand said, gesturing for him to enter. "There's already rioting down in the city, y'know."

"What will you tell Russia?" Prussia asked, walking into the house. She snorted as she closed the door behind them.

"This is the closest I've had to a civil war in decades. I'll think of something," She said scornfully. "and Russia better listen to me, and listen good, 'cause I ain't in the mood to put up with his bullshit."  


**6th February 1985; around 10:00am.  
The World meeting Conference room, a nondescript hotel, Tokyo, Japan.**

Prussia scowled as he followed in Russia's wake. Beside him, Hungary was walking silently, her head down and her fists clenched at her sides. For the first time since they'd been occupied by the Red army during World War Two, Russia was letting them attend the World meeting. It had taken more then a few bottles of vodka, Hungary's frying pan and Prussia's bible to convince the huge Slavic nation, but eventually he'd agreed to let Prussia and Hungary accompany him instead of the usual Belarus and Lithuania.

The only problem was that Russia had only agreed to let them go if they followed his rules.

That mainly meant no fraternizing with "corrupt, capitalist pigs, da?"

Unfortunately, West Germany and Austria (the two nations Prussia and Hungary wanted to see most, respectively) came under Russia's idea of a capitalist. In fact, according to Russia's rules, the only people they could talk to who were outside of the Union were Vietnam, North Korea, China and Cuba.

Prussia met Hungary's frustrated glance as Russia settled himself at the table, having purposefully chosen a seat across from West and Austria. He smirked slightly as the bitch sighed and straightened her heavy soviet-style overcoat, before settling down to glare venomously at the back of an oblivious Russia's head. They weren't officially there for the meeting itself (thanks to Russia - or possibly Belarus - being particularly vindictive) so they weren't able to sit at the large oval table. Instead, Russia had ordered them to stand behind him and look scary.

He seemed to find it amusing.

Prussia didn't really care - or at least, didn't care as much as Hungary - because nothing Russia did would make him anywhere as awesome as Prussia. Not to mention that it was nice to be out from behind the Wall for once. Russia had been watching him with much more scrutiny since he'd jumped ship in '81. So closely, in fact, that he'd had no chance to try and escape again. He was pretty sure Russia had had Prussia's secret police bug Prussia's apartment, which was more then a little unfair. He consoled himself with the thought that at least it wasn't the KGB. The Stasi, he could deal with. The KGB...not so much.

He looked around, absently listening to Russia hum something that sounded frightfully cheerful as he observed the nations already there. England and France were sitting at the far end of the table. England was looking frustrated, whilst France was (for once in his life) not picking a fight or groping his long-time friend/enemy.

Instead, he was looking rather worried.

Prussia looked curiously at the allied powers, noting America's current absence and the way Australia and...some blond nation with a polar bear...were whispering and fidgeting, looking far too tense for a routine meeting.  
New Zealand was also absent.

Interesting. 

He turned away from the western powers to catch Austria's gaze. He raised his eyebrows and smirked at the aristocratic bastard, chuckling quietly to himself as his old enemy coloured a brilliant red and turned away. West frowned and nodded at him, his blue eyes flicking towards Russia and back. Russia's aura turned nasty as he noticed the attention of the western nations, but before he could do anything, the door slammed open and the missing nations stormed in.

"Lets just get this fucking meeting started already!" America growled, throwing himself into the empty seat at the head of the table. New Zealand entered behind him, clutching a folder of notes and grinning.

"Ah, America..." England started, just before America's head was slammed into the tabletop with a resounding thud! by the nation standing behind his chair.

"Going to start without me, were you, America dear?" New Zealand cooed, a cheerful smile gracing her lips as she ground the blond superpower's face into the wooden surface. "I suppose you were going to neither confirm or deny my absence, weren't you? Fucking liar."

There was complete silence as New Zealand started towards the only empty seat at the conference table, her scarily cheerful smile never leaving her lips.

"Bitch...you're not supposed to attack your allies, you know." America snarled. New Zealand froze, and Prussia could see as her expression turned dark.

"Oh I know that, America, love...but you're not my ally, are you now? You declared our alliance null and void just this morning!" She ground out, whipping around to face the Superpower. America stood up and took a couple of steps towards her. They seemed to have forgotten about the meeting completely as they started in on an obviously well-used argument. Prussia glanced at Hungary, who was watching the conflict with growing interest, before returning his attention to the ensuing fight. She'd better thank him later for the awesome idea of persuading Russia to let them come to the meeting.

"And if I remember right, America..." New Zealand was saying over the top of America's protests, her expression utterly furious and her eyes cold, "You were the one to start this fight... when you refused to confirm or deny the presence of nuclear weapons on the ship you SENT INTO MY TERRITORY!"

New Zealand's voice rose to a shrill scream as she spun around and slammed her closed fist into America's face. He staggered backward, his eyes wide with incredibility as the tiny island nation confronted him with an increasingly louder voice.

"It was you who sent that ship, you who refused to confirm or deny whether it was nuclear-armed, you and your allies who poison the Pacific Islands and just sit there, watching as they die from your weapons!"

She screamed at him, unaware of Australia and the mysterious blond nation, who had come up behind her. They were obviously there to restrain her from attacking America again. Prussia was surprised to see tears running down New Zealand's face. He'd known her for a while now - not intimately, but still, at least a century of being on speaking terms had to count for something.

He'd never seen her cry. 

"It was you, America, who dropped the bomb, who started this god dammed mother-fucking Nuclear arms race!" She continued, her hands balled into fists and visibly shaking as she restrained herself from landing another blow."Don't blame me for not wanting the entire fucking planet to go up in flames because you're a trigger-happy immature little shit with a bloody hero complex!"

"What..." America started, as New Zealand swept her fringe from her eyes and plastered that vague smile back across her face. She paused, taking deep breaths until she visibly calmed down.

"My boss says 'there's only one thing worse than being incinerated by your enemies, and that's being incinerated by your friends'. So right now, America, in front of the entire world, I'm gonna say it. _No._ I'm not going to bow down to you, I'm not going to let you do whatever the fuck you want, so get the fuck out of the South Pacific and take your nukes with you! I'm not going to burn for you, or for any idiot with Nuclear technology!"

The meeting room was silent as America glared at the small island nation. New Zealand was panting slightly, and glaring haughtily at everyone sitting in front of her.

The other nations in the room couldn't meet her eyes.

Prussia was shocked. New Zealand was a small country, the type that relied on the superpowers to help protect her. Or at least, he had thought she was. But in one fell swipe, she'd proved herself unafraid of the power America held, and proved herself brave enough to say no.

When no one said anything, New Zealand huffed and picked up her notes that had lain forgotten on the conference room floor throughout the entire conflict.

"See you next time, fuckers." She said, walking over to the door, before turning back for a moment. "Oh, and France? Stop the bomb testing on Mururoa, or you'll be next, mmkay? Ta."

Then she left, leaving the rest of the world in silence. The nations sitting at the Conference table shuffled and fidgeted uneasily, no one willing to break the silence. America was sulking and nursing his injury, while Russia looked delighted at his rival's pain. France looked mutinous. Prussia and Hungary shared a grin at the awkward tension the western nations were soaked in.

It was Italy who eventually broke the silence, clinging onto his older brother's arm and whining.

"Ve~! New Zealand's _scary!_ "

**23rd October, 2011; Half an hour before game play.  
The Nations (blood splattered) private box, Eden Park, Auckland, New Zealand**

Prussia was rooting through a chilly bin filled with beer when the first screech rang out through the Nations box at the Rugby world cup. He straightened up in time to see his brother usher Australia into the actual room itself from the seats on the balcony outside. Blood was gushing from multiple cuts on the southern nation's forehead, but Australia was grinning like a loon and trying to brush off Germany's fussing. The Italy brothers, America, Japan and a blond guy Prussia didn't recognise were hovering by the glass door, watching Australia's failed attempts to brush off Germany.

"first blood!" Australia declared, trying to dodge Germany's fussing hands. 

"What the hell happened to you?" Prussia asked as he opened a beer. The Australian's grin widened, even as Veneziano scuttled forward with the first-aid box, before retreating to the relative safety behind his brother.

"Told Zea that I'd put a bet on France winning the game." He said nonchalantly. "Pass me a cold one, will ya mate?"

Prussia passed another bottle to Australia, before nodding in the direction of the head wounds Germany was trying to clean.

"Doesn't explain how you got that, though." He stated. Australia made a questioning noise as he gulped down the alcohol. Germany growled.

"He knew New Zealand was tense and deliberately provoked her." The younger German said. "And now you're going to need stitches."

"Just stick a plaster on it and I'll be right as rain." Australia told Germany, before turning back to Prussia. "She chucked a beer bottle at me. Right on the mark, too!" He sounded absurdly pleased about this.

"And yet you wonder why half the world thinks you two are at war?" Prussia asked rhetorically, taking a sip of his beer before looking at the label with morbid curiosity. "What is this shit?"

"Tui." Australia said, before elaborating. "It's Kiwi's staple beer. Not exactly upmarket, but something of a national icon. If she ever says "Yeah right" in conversation, she's probably quoting the Tui ads. Oh, hullo! How ya holding up, love?"

New Zealand glared at him from the doorway, before making a strange gurgling noise and grabbing Australia's beer bottle just before he took a gulp. He grinned at her. For a moment, it looked as if she was going to bash him with it, but then she sighed and took a large gulp from the bottle.

Australia snickered.

New Zealand screamed, and threw the half-full bottle at the wall, very nearly hitting Australia again.

"Well, you're in a bad mood," Prussia said cheerfully, grinning at New Zealand. He himself was in a good mood - sporting events were always fun, even if he didn't really follow Rugby. He just liked watching the fights between nations that it generally inspired. France routinely went up against the British Isles brothers, while Prussia had so far seen tiny New Zealand K.O half the Pacific Islands, who were all over six foot and bulging muscles, while the Italy brothers (of all people) had taken out Russia, and America and his brother - Canada! that was his name! - had gotten their arses handed to them by the Rugby-fanatics of the Southern hemisphere.

Right now, it was half an hour before the Rugby World Cup final, and New Zealand was glaring at him like he'd invaded her capital and planted a German flag on top of the Beehive. All for one little comment. Were Prussia a normal nation, from somewhere other than the Europa bloodbath, he'd have recognized the signs that said New Zealand was feeling violent (namely; the broken beer bottle and Australia bleeding head), and would have left her well alone.

Prussia, however, was a European nation, with no sense of self-preservation and a well-developed habit for picking fights, so he merely took New Zealand's tension as a challenge.

"So, what's the odds on France winning this thing?" He asked the island nation, still grinning. She blinked, growled, and then Prussia was seeing stars.

"What odds, my arse...fucking German, there are no odds, the froggy bastard ain't going to win...die, die, die..."

New Zealand scowled at Prussia, before turning on her heel and stomping out of the private box and back onto the balcony, still muttering curses under her breath as she went. Prussia lifted a hand to his nose, and stared at his fingers as they came back bloodied.

"Did she break my nose?" He asked his brother, incredulous. Germany leveled him with a stare and nodded solemnly.

"You did deserve it, though." Germany said after a few moments, in which Prussia had thoroughly examined the damage done to his nose and had, with a hiss and a gush of blood, straightened it back out. "Especially seeing I'd just warned you not to taunt her."

"Oh, shut up West." Prussia grumbled. "It's all your fault anyway, y'know, because if you hadn't gotten lost when you were a kid, I'd have never have even met her."

\- Finito -

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Wheee~! It's (finally) finished~! I'm not sure i like the ending, but oh well. It's finished~! This is how i see New Zealand, because as a history nerd, i'm incapable of reading Hetalia without applying my knowledge of history to it.


End file.
